Out of sight, and always unseen
by Jennypen
Summary: Do we hide from the world, or are we just hidden? Vince disappears, and everyone falls in to find him... but will they be in time? And who would take him?
1. A somewhat punchy intro

**This is my first fanfic that I've written in 8 years, and definitely the first about the Boosh (and any ones I ever wrote before were crap anyway!), so please take that into account before you find it awful. I'm not sure why I'm submitting this yet as I have a terrible habit of never finishing what I've started, but I'm determined to do better.**

**I've always wondered why people write disclaimers - I don't think anyone is under the impression (least of all me) that I own any characters, especially not Vince and Howard (only in my dreams... and those are nice dreams...)**

**I have no idea how this is going to turn out, I'll say it now. Perhaps I could get some ideas...?**

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_All the things I'll never see, all the things I'll never be…_

It was bloody cold. Every other thought had been stripped away except for the numbness inside of him. It was just so, so cold. The last time he'd been this cold… funny how a pause at the wrong time almost ruined everything. The memory rose unbidden in his mind, but as he lunged desperately for it, it blurred into nothingness and he was once left with the biting cold filling his entire being, blocking everything else out. Had there been any tears left, he would have cried, but his weak and battered body was slowly giving up, and he was slowly, and softly, drifting off, away from prying eyes, and helping hands.

Vince Noir, rock and roll star, was going to die.

****

Perturbed! That was the word he was looking for. Pity it hadn't been relevant for three hours, but no matter - Howard Moon, colon explorer, didn't mind too much, as had he managed to think of it at the time, it would have gone over Vince's head anyhow. Howard sighed as he methodically pre-cut strips of sellotape and hung them neatly to fill the empty branches, ready to go should they be needed. He'd done the Scotch tape (which, he'd heard recently, was real man's tape), and was now moving onto the sellotape itself. He searched round the roll with his fingernail, again and again, until he found the edge and started the whole process anew, stretching out the tape onto each finger in turn, and cutting the tape into identical strips, then hanging them on the tree branches. It took him fifteen minutes, and it was only as he put the last one on that he realised that Vince was sitting in a chair, looking out the window with the air of one distracted. Merely noticing Vince's presence made him jump, as the shop was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop (not that one ever did, they were safely inserted into Pushpin Hill). No singing, no inane questions, just silence that the more he thought about it, the more it was deafening to Howard. With great effort and a quiet voice, he softly broke it.

"…Vince?" Vince jumped half a foot in the air, and whipped his head around.

"Wot?"

"Is there a hypnotist in the street?" A slightly confused look befell Vince's face, before he realised what Howard was getting at, and he gave a wan smile.

"Nah, just testin' ya! And you failed!" Something small and squishy flew at Howard's face, and after the initial shock of impact had worn off, he bent to pick up the satsuma from the floor, where it had burst slightly and was now looking decidedly sad. He flung it forcefully back at Vince, who dodged it gracefully, and it smacked into two bottles that were sitting on the front window display with a resound squelch, splaying its innards over the windowsill.

"OI! What was THAT?!" Both Vince and Howard grinned guiltily as the tiny shaman floated down the stairs on a cushion of air, his turban (and hair?) slightly askew. "Have you been throwing stupid satsumas AGAIN? What have you broken now!" Unfortunately, there was no denying it, and pretty soon, Howard and Vince were in the van on the way to the nearest local Shamansburys to pick up replacement bottles.

For twelve minutes (Howard was counting), the van was silent. Not an uncomfortable silence, just the kind of silence that has grown from no-one particularly bothered to saying anything, but as the seconds ticked by into minute thirteen, Howard panicked - this was actually the most peace and quiet he'd ever got from Vince in all of the years they'd known each other, and that was worrying.

"Something on your mind?" He got straight down to it, sometimes. After all, he was Howard Moon, talking straight was what he did best. Vince shrugged his shoulders in a noncommittal way, and said,

"Dunno, just…" He trailed off, and after a minute (and a near-collision with a tree) passed, Howard again broke the silence, this time with more vehemence.

"Vince, seriously, what IS your issue? You've been perturbed all week." Ignoring the look of complete and utter ignorance, he pressed on. "You've been quiet and sullen, and don't think you fooled me with the satsuma ploy to - I saw you grab it from the fruit bowl when I called you."

"God Howard, you're beginning to sound a bit like a telly announcer. 'Day six in the Big Brother house, and Vince is not saying much.' M'fine, just thinking about things."

Unfortunately for Vince, his best personality trait (ie his complete and utter honesty) was working overtime against him, as a flash of what was clearly 'bother' crossed his pale, half-arsedly painted face. Howard gave him a stare, so he carried on. "I don't know, just feeling a little… queer. Don't really know why, Howard. Just kinda do, really. Went out clubbing with Leroy last week, and I can't remember much, but I had an awful nightmare that night. S'pose it's been bothering me." As long as Howard could remember, Vince had been plagued with nightmares - a parting gift from his years alone in the jungle before Bryan Ferry came to look after him. Normally, it didn't really bother him, as his generally sunny disposition overrode any nighttime interruptions. A dark look flitted across his face, and in a moment, it was gone, replaced by a genuine smile. "Anyway, never mind! S'alright really, going out again tonight when we get back. I was thinkin' of getting a bird familiar for myself, what do you think? It'd be brilliant! The special offer leaflet that came in the door said they're only €200! That'd be sweet!" Try though he might, Howard couldn't really find any trace of anything hiding behind that statement, so he responded, and the banter continued all the way to Shamansburys.

****

Later that evening, with the soft strains of Wayne Krantz smoothly dulling out the outside sounds of darkening Dalston, Howard Moon knocked on the bathroom door, and shouted "Tea!" at the top of his voice. The hairdryer briefly stopped, and Vince opened the door to ask for Ovaltine instead, all the while still bent over, as though paused mid-hairstyling. Howard smiled at him and closed the door, then went to put the kettle on. As he reached into the overhead cupboard to find the Ovaltine, his hand passed over the Bovril and he briefly considered throwing in a spoon, just for kicks, but decided against it in the end. He hummed to himself as he made an Ovaltine paste with milk, and sloshed in the hot water into Vince's and his own mug, watching his teabag swirl. He turned around and drew a breath to call Vince, only to start and have the air strangle in his throat for a moment as he found Vince standing right behind him. Missing only lippy, the sole phrase that could describe Vince was a vision. His hair was perfect, his makeup incredible, and his outfit looked almost couture. Howard quickly found his voice, and offered the mug to Vince, who grinned a cheeky grin, and took a sip.

"Oh Howard, how do you do it? No-one makes a cuppa like you!" Howard lowered his head, and grinned,

"Ah-thank you. So where you off to tonight? Pipped Post?"

"Nah, Naboo said he went to the Blue Hippo the other night, and apparently it was amazing, apparently they've got conga eels in tanks all around the dancefloor, imagine that!" Howard did imagine, and it sounded brilliant. Though the older man had only just started his tea, Vince took one last glug from his mug and quickly rinsed it out and laid it out on the draining board. He popped on the most subtle lipgloss anyone had ever seen, and with one last check of his hair, waved goodbye to Howard and swanned off out the door. Just as he was running down the stairs, Howard heard him shout "See ya!" to Naboo and Bollo. All at once, the flat was silent, but for Wayne Krantz. Howard looked at the upturned mug beside the sink, and smiled to himself.

Little did Howard know.

****

Vince stumbled out of the club, leaning heavily against the brick wall, a blissfully gormless smile gracing his lips. He wasn't drunk, just worn out and a bit overstimulated. He was alone, as he was leaving early, but strangely, he'd been alone all night, just chilling in the background - no-one he'd known had shown up, but it wasn't the first time that had happened. He was quite content sitting drinking for a few hours, just watching the world dance by. He was propositioned a few times, but he politely declined each one - he was enjoying himself too much, being at peace while the throngs pulled amateurish shapes in front of him.

He wandered tiredly along the street, intending to get to the high street and catch a taxi. He didn't rush, as it was only 1am and they wouldn't be busy just yet, so he could afford to take his time on the surprisingly empty streets. The moon was out in the sky, and he was sure he saw it beam down at him. As he neared a side alley just down from the club, he heard a muffled voice call him.

"Got a light, lady?" Laughing to himself, Vince turned his head to say he didn't.

"No way mate, sorry, don't… oh, hi-" The force of the punch to his cheek sent him reeling, and blackness instantly appeared at the edges of his vision. He staggered backwards, and was about to cry out, but suddenly the person was behind him, grabbing him around the neck with an arm. He heard, rather than felt, the cloth over his face, and with frightening speed, he felt himself drift off. He dropped like a stone to the floor.

The man who had asked for a light lit his cigarette, took a long, slow, satisfied drag off it, and jingled the van keys in his pocket. He strolled around to the back of the van, opened the door, and calmly lifted Vince's inert body into the back of the van. Anyone who had been watching may have been surprised to note he covered Vince in a blanket up to his chest, almost tucking him in. He then got into the front cab, and drove away, flicking the spent cigarette out the window.


	2. Slow, meandering plot setup

**Ooh! I kept going! A Chapter 2. A turnaround for the books. My license on Scrivener runs out in 25 days, I suppose that's why the actual doing things - I'm too broke to pony up the $20 right now :P Baby to feed!**

**I apologise if this feels aimless - there is an eventual aim, but goodness I have no idea how I'm going to get there.**

**I wish I owned Vince and Howard, though. Think I managed to dream about it last night, but it slipped away when I woke up... Boo!**

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_Movin' too fast, this isn't a race, hmm_

It was Saturday morning, and Howard woke up feeling refreshed. He wandered out towards the bathroom, expecting to find it occupied, but it was empty. He picked up his toothbrush, squeezed a textbook pea-sized amount of toothpaste onto it, and began to brush his teeth. His mind woke up with a bang as he saw the clock on the wall. It was 11am. Howard Moon hadn't managed to sleep past 8:30am in months, even on weekends, as even after the latest of late nights, Vince was normally up watching cartoons by 8, and despite his protests, Howard usually found himself being drawn in (he himself enjoyed Dexter's Lab, but Vince thrilled when the Powerpuff Girls came on - Bubbles was his favourite, and he'd seen every episode, and the film, at least half a dozen times). It was then that his brain buffer informed him that he'd had to take the cap off the toothpaste, which meant Vince hadn't been in the bathroom yet. He dropped his toothbrush into the sink, and stepped into the living room, to confirm what he hadn't actually noticed earlier - the entire flat was silent. Worried now, he went back to his and Vince's shared room, only to find that not only was Vince not there, but his bed was made up as Howard had made it yesterday. He'd never come home.

Not really caring if incurred a back-turning, Howard raced for Naboo and Bollo's room, and burst in the door.

"Naboo! Vince…" He trailed off as he took in the sight in front of him.

"I know he's missing. I'm trying to find him." Naboo was sitting cross-legged on the floor, upon which was painted what looked like a green cloud. Bollo put out a hand to tell Howard to come no closer. Eyes closed, the tiny shaman held his hands together in front of him, palms up. After a few moments, a small green ball appeared floating about an inch above Naboo's outstretched palms, and grew until it resembled a tiny, breathing version of the cloud drawn on the floor. Naboo gnashed his teeth at it, and a light began to glow inside the ball, until the whole thing was lit up. Howard stared into the ball, and saw a closed eye within. It was unmistakably Vince's eye - his signature eyeshadow glinted in the light from the ball. The image shimmered, and began to pan softly out, almost as if zooming out slowly. Howard felt Bollo stiffen beside him, and then saw what caused it - as the image cleared out to see more of Vince's face, the stark, bloody gash all along the top of his cheekbone made Howard gasp. Without warning, a hand covered the whole ball as if grabbing it. Naboo swayed violently, caught off balance, and flung open his eyes. A voice rasped through the cloud ball.

"Don't try your cheap parlour tricks with me, Xooberon shaman reject. Sit and wait, and you will get what you want. At least, partly." The green cloud imploded with a _fwoop_, and the flat was silent again. Bollo was the first to speak.

"How did he see green seeing cloud? Is invisible?!" Naboo answered him in what seemed to Howard to be an undeserved level of calm. How could he be so calm, after what they'd just seen?

"Probably 'cos it was Shamansburys Value Seeing Cloud Mix. I've heard the invisibility of them was a bit dodgy. I'll be getting the Extra Special stuff from now on, ballbag Value range. Might call their customer services later, if I get time." Howard was incredulous, but he shook his head and moved on.

"So where does that leave us? His face…"

"He's alive, Howard, that's all that matters." Naboo's voice was sullen, but determined. "Someone's got him though, someone with powerful magic. It's one thing to see the seeing cloud, it's another entirely to use it and disperse it. They knew we'd look for him, they were waiting for us to try to find him." The worry that had been creeping up the back of Howard's throat engulfed him, as the full realisation that this was a malicious, intentional act hit him, and he fell to his knees. He felt Bollo scoop him up and carry him to the bathroom, where the massive, all-encompassing fear swept over him, and he retched until he fell against the hard white porcelain bowl, sweat dripping off him. Bollo, in an uncharacteristically kind move, stroked his hair for a moment, then turned on the bath taps.

"We find Vince, Howard. Make bad man pay." Howard nodded weakly. "Take bath. Will help clear head."

****

In the end, it was the ache in his cheek that pulled Vince from the outer rings of blissful unconsciousness back to reality. He tried to put his hand up to feel where it hurt, but found they were bound together, as were his feet. He could smell the metallic smell of blood, which for a moment seemed frighteningly powerful, until he went to move his mouth, and realised the blood was just a small, dried trickle from his cheek that had run across his lips while he was lain down, meaning the blood was right under his nose. He'd never particularly minded the taste of blood before - the odd nosebleed or split lip was all part of life, really, but today it was terrifying. He couldn't remember how he got here, only that he'd left the Blue Hippo alone.

A quick wriggle-check told him that other than his cheekbone which was quite clearly bruised but no more, he was fine. At last, he opened his eyes, only to find that the room around him was spinning, not from being drunk or even hungover, but from something else - had he been drugged? He didn't know, but it felt like it. Not that he'd really know what it was like, as despite living with Naboo, he was actually very well behaved, but then again, he was a bit of a lightweight, so he didn't drink much at all, either.

The room, from what he could gather, was enormous - it was clearly a - a, um, a something. The word wouldn't come and wouldn't come. A warehouse! That's what it was. Vince winced as his head shook with a wave of pain - thinking was clearly not something enjoyable just now. It was totally devoid of anything, save for what looked from the floor to be a table and bench, the kind you'd get in a garden centre for dining on the patio. Unable to process the big picture, his mind noticed a crack in the underside of the seat on the benchside nearest him, and wondered for one ludicrous moment if it had been marked down so his captor hadn't had to pay full price. As he concentrated on that one benign thought, the back of his mind thought very hard about that word. Captor. He'd been kidnapped. He couldn't decide if it was amusing, embarrassing, or just scary.

As he detected the faintest sound of footsteps treading across the floor towards him, he decided it was outright scary, with a side order of terror fries.

****

"Ready!" Howard stepped out of his and Vince's room, looking more the man of action than he'd ever thought possible. Even Naboo raised his eyebrows briefly, before signalling to him to come into the shop. Howard purposefully strode down the stairs, clomping his boots forcefully with each step. He engaged his mouth before even bothering to look up.

"Right Naboo. I say we start with…" he trailed off as he looked up, to see several members of the Board of Shamen in front of him - Dennis, Saboo and Tony Harrison. He wasn't really sure how to go on, Saboo took over.

"Gentleman, it's crunch time. We don't know how the fairy went missing, only that he has done, and it's up to us to find him. I propose we start with-" He was stopped up short by Howard's glare.

"How dare you. He's been taken by someone, he's hurt, and that person has ill-intentions. He knows where Naboo is from, and he knew we'd come looking for him that fast. He might die, and you're stuck here calling him a fairy. Get with the fucking programme. We need to find him NOW."

"Alright, squire, calm down." The door to the shop opened, and a green-skinned figure with a black top hat stepped over the threshold. "Alright crab-eyes, been well? I heard your missus has gone a-missing, thought I'd lend a hand. I already combed the fields, no-one's seen nuffink of 'im since he was in that plinky bar." The Hitcher chucked his hat on the hatstand by the door, and sat down on the piano stool. "I reckon you should start there." Silence filled the room, but Dennis was the first to speak.

"The green gentleman is right. We must start in the club. We need to find what time he left. There may have been camera evidence!" He nodded his head in the direction of the door, and everyone stood to leave… except for Howard.

"Moon, you plum, get a move on! Ow!" Tony Harrison stretched up a tentacle to rub the side of his head where Bollo had smacked him, and withered under Bollo's sharp look. Naboo covered quickly. "Best you do stay here, Howard, in case they contact us. If they do, use this." He tossed Howard a small black object, which Howard quickly identified as a dictaphone (in fact, it was Fossil's dictaphone). "Record the conversation and we'll see what we can get out of it. Call me and let me know as soon as you know anything. Come on, Bollo, carpet's waiting." With that, Naboo, Bollo, Dennis, Tony, Saboo and the Hitcher filed out the door, and closed it behind them. Outside, Tony made a rude comment about Naboo, who answered only with, "There's something really important going on, and he needs to be here. He's too upset to function, and you would be too, if the person you cared about most in the whole world was in danger." Tony nodded somberly and allowed himself to be plonked onto the carpet.

Inside, Howard Moon sat dazed by the shop counter, not knowing where to begin. He looked slowly around, and the first thing he came to was an old copy of Cheekbone lying discarded just underneath the till. It was the issue with Lance Dior on the cover, and Vince had drawn little unhappy faces around him, and vandalised Lance's face in the most childish way possible. Without even noticing, Howard began to cry.


	3. Did you guess it?

**I don't really get off on violence, honest! **

**Sorry I've been away, I *may* have picked up Guitar Hero: Metallica and been rocking out to the best game ever. They need Guitar Hero: Boosh and Guitar Hero: Conchords! :D **

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_Disfigured, and alone…_

The first kick only woke him, but he last kick had definitely broken two ribs, he'd made sure of that. Nothing life threatening, but enough to keep him awake - he didn't want the little synth-ponce to sleep any more. Vince cried out, but bit it back as quickly as he could. His captor laughed - defiance was going to get him nowhere.

"Right, you little tart, time to let everyone see how serious I am."

****

The door bell rang three times, jolting Howard out of his internal reverie. The kid on the bike looked impatiently at the 'Open' sign on the door, and shook the unmoving handle. Angrily, Howard waved a dismissive hand at him. He knocked again, waving an envelope around and eventually just pushing it through the letterbox. When Howard didn't acknowledge him, he gave the two-fingered salute, and pedaled away. With immense effort, Howard walked over towards the inner doormat, and picked up the letter. The envelope was crisp, and the name merely said 'Moon' on it. It felt thick and heavy. He turned it over to open it, and froze - there was a red, smudged fingerprint on the back flap. With renewed urgency he tore open the envelope, and tipped its contents all over the counter. It was a single piece of paper, and four Polaroids, all of Vince. Each one showed various parts of his body - a shin with a bruise, a torn sleeve over a scratched arm, an extreme close-up of his nose which quite clearly showed it was broken, and a wide-angled shot showing Vince lying on the floor, hands and feet behind him as he lay on his side. The look of fear in his eyes made Howard's stomach writhe. The note read:

Every day you hurt me, both of you. You will learn what that is like.

Howard surprised himself with his scream. Not the scream of a frightened child, or a confused idiot, but something rawer, more primal, almost a roar. He let it go on for a minute or so, and afterwards he bent double, spent. He picked up the phone on the counter, and called Naboo.

"Howard! I know-"

"I know who it is." Howard finished it off for him. "And I know where we'll find him."

"We're already on our way back, Howard. Wait for us there. DON'T go off and do anything stupid." In the background, Howard heard "I'll cut your stupid empty pink head open if you don't keep your tentacles to yourself, you twat", and vaguely hoped the Hitcher was serious.

The Hitcher! The Hitcher was helping them. What on earth… well, Howard thought, it *was* Vince. He did have a way of touching people - there were very few in the world that the Sunshine Kid didn't cheer up. He had sold the Hitcher a toy car once. He always brightened up Howard's day, even when he was executing some form of prank on Howard. What if he… The thought died halfway through in his mind as Howard's resolve set itself to stun.

****

Vince wasn't ashamed to cry. He wasn't really ashamed of anything - acceptance was a rather large trait of his personality. He didn't even find any of the multitude of Howard's funny little nuances embarrassing - quite the opposite in fact, he found them rather endearing. Right now though, he couldn't do anything but accept the situation he was in. Though it hurt to think, he blocked out everything but the pain to work out what hurt and how much. His nose was broken, his ribs made breathing impossible, maybe he'd broken something. His stomach felt like it had exploded. He was still lying on the floor, whimpering to himself softly. Cold, sticky tears dallied down his temple and onto the floor. He was thirsty, hungry and sick all at once. Vince Noir, rock and roll star, was in great pain.

He hadn't heard anyone approach him, but all of a sudden he felt arms roughly pulling at him from behind. The man pulled his shoes and trousers off with a zeal Vince was frightened to think of. His mind screamed as it leapt ahead and guessed at the horrific outcome, but when he moved to cut Vince's shirt off, his mind went blank. Left with just his underwear on, he shivered a little in the cool air. Next thing he knew he was being lifted into a box which was too small for him so he curled up in the foetal position. He looked up sharply, but his captor eluded his view by putting the lid on the box. A moment later, almost as an afterthought, he reached into the box and cut the tiewraps holding Vince's arms and legs, then shut the lid again. Too weak and hurting, Vince felt flooded with despair as he heard hammering against the box, and realised the box was being nailed down. He shut his eyes and sang to himself to try to shut out what was going on around him.

"Sun is shining and you're feeling fine and the birds are singing in the trees…"

****

Howard couldn't quite believe his eyes at the army that stood before him - the shop was showing its TARDIS-like capabilities to hold people. Naboo had summoned everyone he knew to help, but one person was noticeably absent - and sadly, it was that person they were going to take down. Neville Bamshoot had spotted the perpetrator's van entering a warehouse behind Tesco's this morning. A plan was in place. All was ready to go.

Except Howard didn't want to go. Despite his resolve, he was afraid. Not of danger, but of… of… he couldn't finish the thought. As transport logistics were being worked out, he made a rubbish excuse of needing to use the toilet before they left. He ran to the bathroom, sat down on the seat without even bothering to close the door behind him, put his head in his hands and thought about the photographs. After a minute's thought, Howard felt a presence and looked up to find Naboo standing in the doorway.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm just… I don't know, Naboo. My head is telling me to get going, but my heart… I just don't know!" Naboo looked at him gravely, but with understanding.

"I'm scared too, Howard. I'm worried we'll get there and he'll be dead, or almost. I don't think I'll be able to take that." The shaman's exact voicing of his thoughts stunned Howard, and he met Naboo's gaze with wide-eyed wonder.

"That's… almost exactly what I'm thinking. I'm scared, Naboo. I'm so scared, and I hate myself for not being able to move. He'll hate me so much."

"I don't think so, Howard. He'd have been the same. But unless we move NOW we might not get to find out." Howard nodded somberly.

"You're right Naboo. I'm ready."

"Then let's go."

****

Well, thought Howard to himself, it LOOKS empty. Feeling somewhat like he was in some form of computer game, he walked up to the door, with Saboo and Bollo at his side, and as one they kicked it. It didn't move. They counted to three, and kicked again. It did nothing. Bollo ran at it. It didn't move, and he rubbed his shoulder in obvious discomfort. The momentum and excitement that had been almost palpable just a moment ago suddenly dissipated, leaving a sense of void in the air. Quietly, almost as if in a trance, Kirk walked up to the door, and turned the handle. The huge warehouse door swung open loudly. Instantly invigorated, they all rushed in.

The warehouse was enormous, and starkly empty, save for a small bench and table which quite clearly came from B the red 'clearance' sticker was still attached to the top of the table, and visible even 40 feet away. A figure was quite calmly sitting in the chair, waiting for the group to rush him. He didn't move as the mob ran at him, and his calmness was so unnerving that they slowed as they neared him. Howard fought back raging hot tears, as he pushed ahead of where everyone had stopped to address the man sat lazily on the bench. He was tall, blonde, and devastatingly handsome. Curiously, Howard had never noticed just how supremely attractive he was before.

"Leroy."

"Howard."


	4. Quick! To the Batmobile!

**A short but sharp one. I could have pontificated, but on with the action!**

**The Mighty Boosh belongs to Jenny… hey, wait a second! Oh, I was dreaming again…**

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"_Feels as though nobody cares if I lives or dies…"_

If looks really could kill, Leroy would have been dead a thousand times over, as every single one of the assembled group glared angrily at him, unnerved by his calm demeanor. Howard pushed to the front, and spoke, every word an immense effort.

"Leroy."

"Howard."

"Where is he?"

"Where is he? You start with 'where is he?' Christ. What happened to the good old-fashioned why, the opening gambit of many a hero 'gainst a villain?" He grinned, and Howard's rage boiled over. His mind clouded over, and all he could feel was an impact on his knuckles, until an unknown set of arms encircled his chest and pulled him away. When the fog inside his head cleared, he looked down to see he'd hit Leroy so hard, there was blood on his own hands from where he'd split the skin on his knuckles. Leroy's chin was a mess. "I suppose I deserved that. A lot worse, probably. Just so you know, I'm not telling you where he is, you'll have to find him yourself. He's not far, but he's not got long. I'd start searching if I were you." Naboo barked an order, and a flurry of footfalls echoed around the vast space of the warehouse. Howard turned to leave, but he turned for a short moment, and said,

"…Why?" Expecting another smug grin, Howard was surprised to see Leroy's face darken heavily.

"Because of you two. Your little filthy relationship. Always Howard and Vince, never Leroy and Vince, or Leroy and Howard. It never mattered what I wanted or where I wanted to go, it was always you two little shits at the forefront. I never got anywhere, not that I really wanted to, after knowing what you really thought of me. It made me so angry… I bet you didn't even notice, did you, that I haven't spoken to you in nearly a year. Vince, sure, he bothered to keep up contact, but only to parade his fucking status around. He didn't even invite me to your birthday party, not that I'd have come.

"I hate both of you, for leaving me behind - it used to be us three, back in sixth form… before you two left, of course. But you two just ditched me. And don't think I didn't know what you used to say about me - I had the DVD. I worked in a kiosk, sure, but it beat shoveling shit all day. I wanted to hurt you so much - I thought about so many things, but I knew where to get you the most. Kicking Vince about was one thing, but you… You, Howard Moon, are a heartless bastard. You think you're so fucking superior to everyone around you." Howard was sad then - not at what Leroy said, but at how heartless he truly was. He just turned around and walked away, patently ignoring what he knew was sure to follow, although, just as he left the door, he just about heard a murmur back inside.

"Was that all, squire? I hope it was worth it…" He was too far away to hear Leroy try to run.

****

It was bloody cold. Every other thought had been stripped away except for the numbness inside of him. It was just so, so cold. The last time he'd been this cold… funny how a pause at the wrong time almost ruined everything. The memory rose unbidden in his mind, but as he lunged desperately for it, it blurred into nothingness and he was once left with the biting cold filling his entire being, blocking everything else out. Had there been any tears left, he would have cried, but his weak and battered body was slowly giving up, and he was slowly, and softly, drifting off, away from prying eyes, and helping hands.

Vince Noir, rock and roll star, was going to die.

****

They fanned out quickly, each aware of the time involved, until they circled the outside of the building, and moved quickly outward. Naboo, Tony Harrison and Saboo walked slightly behind, eyes up, concentrating on a heartbeat. When Howard got outside, they had all progressed 100ft from the building. He, however, noticed something they hadn't - Leroy's white van was parked near the door, and the back door was slightly ajar. He ran towards it, noticing immediately as he walked past that the engine was still ticking down as it cooled. He flung the doors open as forcefully as he possibly could, but it was empty. On a whim, he opened the driver door, and immediately clocked the set of keys on the dashboard. He yelled with everything he could - Naboo, Saboo and Bollo came running.

"The keys! I bet they know where Vince is." Anyone else would have thought this an odd phrase, but Saboo grabbed the keys off him and placed them onto his face-up right palm. The keys floated gently into midair, and began to revolve slowly. Saboo's lips moved wordlessly, and the keys spun faster and faster, as Saboo summoned his Will, and let it out with a Word.

"Crunchtime!" The light that exploded from the keys was beautiful, and showed, in reverse order, where the keys had been - first the dashboard, then Leroy's hand, then used in a doorlock, then Leroy's pocket, then used in the doorlock again. However, they'd all seen the logo just above the door, and the HSE warning. Howard got in the van, put the keys in the ignition, and drove, giving the other three barely enough time to clamber into the cab and back. He pulled away, not bothering to stop. Naboo shouted out the window to Dennis,

"He's at the old Kwik Save lockup!" In the freezer, Naboo neglected to mention.

****

They weren't coming. The pain was long gone, as Vince gave in to die.

****

As if by magic, every traffic light in the longest ten minute journey of Howard's life turned green just as he reached it. He flung the van next to the shutter doors, and fell out of the door in his haste. He searched through the keys to find the correct key for the shutters, and turned it hurriedly. A brief grinding noise rang out, then they slowly began to curl up. Howard tapped his feet impatiently, and glared at the box with the shutter motor in, willing it to turn faster. As soon as he could duck under the whole thing, Howard ripped out the keys and slid under the door, with Bollo pushing him to help him along.

Inside, there were packing crates everywhere, but he knew where Vince was. He stood on top of the nearest crate so he could see his way to the freezer - it was on the wall furthest from him. Bollo ran ahead and pushed every box out of the way. Naboo floated alongside Howard as they raced to the freezer door - by the time they got there, Bollo had ripped the door off its hinges and strewn it aside. Howard's heart lept as the cold room had only one thing in the centre of the floor - a lone packing crate. Together, he, Saboo and Bollo pulled it out of the freezer onto the main door - it was suspiciously heavy. He tried to pull the lid off, but it was nailed down. He looked around - nothing to pull it open with! Panic set in, until Bollo raised his arms and banged at it with all of his might, until the lid and one side collapsed, pushing the whole thing to one side.

Vince's cold and inert body fell out of the box onto the floor, and Howard's heart stopped.


	5. Stars shining bright above you

**I'm so late with this it's untrue. Town-wide power cut, illness and not knowing where to go with it… I hope I've followed it in the right direction, I'm not convinced right now - I have a terrible tendency to exaggerate (everything's got to be IMPACTING).**

**My first draft was atrocious - this is the first time I've not just stream-of-consciousness wrote and immediately put up. Be kind to me!**

_It's not the crust, it's the filling…_

The saddest thing was, he wouldn't even get to say goodbye. The world turned slowly white, and reality fell away from Vince. Didn't everyone always say that it went black? Or was it there was a white tunnel? To be honest, he wasn't actually sure anymore. He was walking forward, moving as if in a dream towards the only sound he could hear - the sound of sobbing. He stepped purposefully forward, and the sight became clearer - a speck at first, but growing as he walked, until he neared it. Sure that this wasn't real, and the rational part of his mind telling him he was already dead, Vince realised this was his chance to say goodbye. He smiled to Howard, and opened his mouth to whisper his last thought, but then he looked closer, and saw that Howard was sat on the floor, holding… Vince.

With a sharp crack, Vince's side exploded with pain, but, transfixed by the sight in front of him, he touched a hand, and felt it come away wet. Just then, he knew what was happening, and he looked Howard square in the eye.

"Alright Howard… cheers…"

****

Looking back, Howard thought it was a very strange sensation, to have time slow to a crawl and speed up at the same time. The whole room blurred out and all that mattered was the cold, cold form in front of him. Crashing through the remains of the collapsed crate and sending debris flying distances he'd have been proud of in any other situation, Howard swooped to Vince and half-dragged, half-lifted Vince to smooth ground. He weighed nothing - in retrospect, Howard supposed he was running on the super strength granted by adrenaline - but he was so cold he almost burned Howard's fingers. To say he had a deathly pallor was to underdefine the word - but Howard's desperate fingertips searched for a pulse at his neck, while listening for breath at his mouth. Ten seconds went by, twenty… He could feel Naboo wanting to say something, but they were all frozen by the same sense of desperation and fear. Then, all of a sudden, he felt it, right beneath his fingertips - the weakest, threadiest pulse he'd thought could still keep a human going, but it was there - he was alive!

"He's alive… he's ALIVE!" His voice cracked into a shriek, and Bollo roared in triumph. "Vince, can you hear me? Vince? Vince, answer me…" His cheeks were right against Vince's open lips, and he felt it - a slightly warming breath. "Naboo… can you make him warm?" Naboo shook his head, but Saboo stepped up.

"Stand back."

"Not a chance." Saboo shrugged in understanding, and again, began to mouth wordlessly. It was much quicker this time, however, and once he'd gathered his Will, he spook a tiny sound ("poof!" - if Howard had been with it in any way, he'd have died laughing), and a blanket appeared in his hand. Howard lost his rag.

"A fucking BLANKET!?! He could freeze to death at any second and you conjure up some fucking BLANKET?!" Saboo put his nose in the air.

"If you heat him up too quickly, you'll kill him. It's a thermal blanket." Howard had at least the decency to look apologetic.

"…Oh yeah." With the blanket spread over Vince, Naboo made an initial assessment. His nose was definitely broken, and possibly his cheek. Naboo moved his small fingers very gently over Vince's freezing body, barely touching the surface.

"He's got two - no three - broken ribs. All together - I think he was kicked." His face went red as a cloudy vision of said kicking flew unbidden in front of his eyes. "Definitely." He moved lower. "Looks like everything else is ok. His muscles in his legs have atrophied at being so cramped up, but other than that… he's going to be fine."

"How long…?" The question came out before Howard could stop himself. Naboo knew what he meant.

"Three minutes. If we hadn't gotten here within three minutes, he'd have died."

Just like that, it seems. He'd never felt so relieved in all his life, but a new worry began to creep up his slowly up his spine until he shivered. If Vince was that close to death… would he ever wake up? Would he ever be the same again? A quick look at Naboo told him the shaman's mind was right alongside his. The light glinted against Vince's bonewhite cheek, and a thousand memories sprang to mind, all blurred in together. All he could do was hope.

The world froze around him. Naboo, Saboo and Bollo were like statues, and Vince in his arms… still so cold. Could he move? A few minutes passed, and Howard didn't want to move. In this bizarre frozen time, perhaps Vince could live forever right there. The tension began to rise, until eventually Howard noticed he was shaking, and still, no-one moved. He let out the breath he'd been unaware of holding, and pulled Vince close to him in an embrace he wasn't sure, even now, that he could get away with were anyone else to be watching. For this… He was overwhelmed with sadness, but also elation - it was probably the closest he'd ever been to Vince, or ever would be again. He shut his eyes, held him as tight as he dared, and wept.

The footsteps jerked him awake, and he snapped his head up. The first thing he noticed was that unlike what he expected, everyone else was still in the same, strange, frozen state. Even the water from the ceiling was hanging in midair, as if someone had hit pause on the world. He twisted his head around to see where the sound had come from, and saw immediately… a pair of white cowboy boots with sequined blue stars on the floor several feet ahead, facing him. Scarcely believing what his eyes were telling him, and by now convinced he was losing his mind, he followed the sight up, to see matching trousers, and a black shirt, open at the collar to reveal beautiful, porcelain skin, right up to a distinctive chin…

It was Vince. He looked down to Howard, and smiled the most beautiful smile he'd ever smiled, then paused. His eyes clouded over, and he put his hand slowly to his side, and Howard noticed the red trail sneak through his fingertips. He met Howard's gaze squarely, and said, softly,

"Alright Howard… Cheers…" Suddenly, in a flash, he was gone, and Naboo was gabbling to Saboo. Howard filed away what just happened for further reference, and shook the fog out of his mind, as the significance of what he'd seen hit home.

"Naboo! His side… he's bleeding!" Naboo was at his side instantly, and raised Vince's arm. Sure enough, there was a deep wound just near Vince's back, which had just begun to bleed out, his sluggish blood beginning to heat up. Naboo and Saboo held their hands over the wound. Howard felt a burst of heat, and the wound was just an ugly scar with burnt blood clinging to the outside. A rush of voices outside indicated that the rest of the little search party had found them.

In the midst of the chaos as everyone else discussed how to leave, Howard felt a tiny movement against his hand - barely there, barely perceivable. He'd been holding Vince's without even noticing it - and it had squeezed his. He smiled. Perhaps it was going to be ok.

**That wasn't too bad. Please review, especially if you thought it was atrocious. I am on such a high at the moment because I just got accepted into University in London to do Midwifery, so nothing can touch me just now!**


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